“We’re not here to cause trouble.” Tessa shifted on the bench, her posture open and unthreatening. “Korrin’s been traveling the mountains searching for exiles. Vultor who’ve left their packs or been cast out. We’re offering them a place with Soren’s pack.”
She turned at that, curious despite herself. “Soren?”
“Our Alpha.” Korrin’s voice carried a note of respect. “He’s trying to build something different. A pack that doesn’t follow the old ways. One where strength isn’t the only measure of worth.”
“Sounds idealistic.” Rykan hadn’t moved from the window, his arms crossed defensively across his chest.
“Maybe.” Korrin shrugged. “But it’s working. We’ve taken in a dozen exiles over the past year. Vultor who would have died alone in the mountains, or worse. Soren gives them protection, and a place to belong.”
“And what does Soren get in return?”
“Loyalty. Numbers.” Korrin’s lips curved, showing a hint of fang. “The old packs are dying, Rykan. They’re too rigid, too bound by tradition. Soren understands that the world is changing. The Vultor have to change with it or fade into nothing.”
She brought the tea to the table, setting out four mismatched cups. She noticed how Rykan’s jaw tightened at Korrin’s words, his shoulders drawing up like a male bracing for a blow.
“I left my pack voluntarily,” he said. “I’m not looking for a new one.”
Korrin studied him for a long moment, something knowing in his amber eyes. “You have alpha blood, don’t you?”
Rykan flinched, and she saw the brief flash of raw pain before his expression shuttered into blankness.
“How did you?—”
“You carry yourself like an alpha. The way you moved when you thought your female was threatened—that wasn’t just protective instinct. That was territorial dominance.” Korrin leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “You were meant to lead, weren’t you? Before something went wrong.”
“Korrin.” Tessa’s voice carried a gentle warning. “That’s personal.”
“It’s relevant.” But Korrin eased back, raising his hands in a gesture of peace. “I’m not trying to dig into your past, Rykan. I’m just saying that Soren could use someone like you. An alpha without a pack is a waste of potential.”
“I’m not interested.”
“Fair enough.” Korrin accepted his tea from Ember with a nod of thanks. “The offer stands if you change your mind.”
She sat at the table, wrapping her hands around her own cup for warmth as the herbs released their soothing fragrance.
“You mentioned Soren is trying to change the old ways,” she said carefully. “What does that mean, exactly?”
Korrin’s attention shifted to her. “It means he’s not content to let the Vultor remain isolated in the mountains, snarling at every human who wanders too close. He wants to build relationships. Trade partnerships. Mutual benefit instead of mutual suspicion.”
Her eyes lit up—the familiar quickening of her mind when it encountered an interesting problem. Trade partnerships. Economic cooperation. The potential for cross-species commerce on Cresca was enormous, but the barriers had alwaysseemed insurmountable because of the cultural differences and the weight of old grievances and older fears.
“What kind of trade?” she asked, leaning forward. “I know the Vultor have access to resources that are difficult for human settlements to obtain—rare minerals from the deep caves, certain medicinal plants that only grow at high altitudes. And humans have technology, manufacturing capabilities, and medical advances that could benefit Vultor communities. If someone could establish a framework for equitable exchange?—”
She stopped abruptly.
Rykan had gone still by the window. Not tense, exactly, but withdrawn in a way she recognized. The same withdrawal she’d seen last night when she’d mentioned returning to Port Cantor. The same careful blankness that meant he was protecting himself from something he didn’t want to feel.
“But that’s probably not relevant to your immediate goals,” she finished, the words awkward in her mouth. “You’re looking for exiles, not business partners.”
Tessa was watching her intently, but she didn’t comment on the abrupt subject change. Instead, she glanced at Korrin, some silent communication passing between them.
“It’s nearly dark,” Korrin said, rising from the bench and looking at Rykan. “That kill you dropped—it’ll attract scavengers if you leave it much longer.”
Rykan stirred at last, turning from the window. “I can retrieve it myself.”
“Two pairs of hands work faster than one.” Korrin’s tone brooked no argument. “Besides, I’d like to see more of this territory. You’ve done well here, for a lone wolf.”
The phrase hung in the air—not quite an insult, not quite a compliment. Rykan’s eyes narrowed, but after a moment he nodded curtly.
